


Love is on the Menu

by lostinfictionalworlds



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Blaine Anderson Big Bang 2015, M/M, Romance, restaurant meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinfictionalworlds/pseuds/lostinfictionalworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson’s older brother, Cooper, owns a popular LA restaurant.  One night, when Blaine agrees to work overtime for Cooper, he meets a new employee named Finn…and Finn’s brother; and slowly Blaine starts to break out of his shell and the barriers he has had around himself come down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is on the Menu

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Blaine Anderson Big Bang 2015/16.

This story is paired up with a wonderful fanmix and coverart by the very kind and talented Klaineitupanotch, which you can find here- <http://fictionallylost.tumblr.com/post/137548484092/pairing-klaine-rating-teen-and-up-audiences> please check it out!

 

*

 

The high-pitched, shrill ringing of the telephone is persistent—calling out, pleading, _insisting_ to be answered almost every five minutes.

 

 If only there were enough free hands around to answer the damn thing.

 

It’s only a Monday lunch time. An unusually busy, _early_ Monday lunch time. Why is everyone in the whole of LA, apparently, calling to book reservations today? What’s the rush? Don’t they have anything better to do? No weekend hangovers to try to suppress or mundane nine-to-five desk jobs to get back to?

 

Ok, maybe it’s safe to say that Blaine Anderson isn’t having the greatest of days, given the way his current thought process is hurtling downwards. And maybe he’s taking it out on the fact that, instead of working on his dissertation for his music degree—the very thing he’s been determinedly working towards for almost the past four years of his life at UCLA—he’s here instead, working the day shift at his brother’s restaurant.

 

 _Cooper Ti Ama_ is a friendly little Italian restaurant located in downtown LA. Business is currently booming, and there’s almost never an empty table.

 

Blaine glares at the phone as it starts ringing again. He quickly passes by, carrying a large tray full of empty glass tumblers, and does his best to try to zone out the surrounding background sounds. He feels his shoulders sag with relief when the phone eventually stops ringing as voice-mail kicks in. The patrons may not like it, but it’s better than just ignoring it and losing potential business.

 

His relief doesn’t last long, however. Towards the front of the dining area, a toddler is crying over a spilled pasta dish, and tomato sauce is everywhere. A little girl is whining over wanting more ‘fizzy orange and two swirly straws’, and an old guy in the corner is snapping his fingers incessantly.

 

Blaine sighs as he carefully adds the glasses to the pile waiting to be washed along the bar countertop. He swipes the back of his hand across his moist brow as he sets his server’s tray down, as well.

 

As if on cue, the phone starts up again. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Blaine reaches for it.

****

“Good afternoon, _Cooper Ti Ama_!” he says, making sure to sound professional and enthusiastic. “This is Blaine speaking; how can I help?”

 

“Blaine! My favorite bro—”

 

“I’m your _only_ brother, Cooper.”

 

“Yeah, yeah—listen, I need you to do me a huge favor—”

 

“I’m still busy doing you a ‘huge favor’ right now, Cooper—”

 

“Blainey—”

 

“Don’t call me that—”

 

“Dude, please. I need you to stay and work the night shift for me. I’m not going to be back on time; I’m so sorry. Please? I need you there for Happy Hour; it’s our craziest time. Pretty please?” He hesitates for a minute, waiting, and when Blaine doesn’t respond, he adds in a cajoling voice, “I’ll pay you double.”

 

Blaine sighs hard and heavy, more for effect than anything. He leans back against the marble-tiled counter and scuffs his black dress shoe against a slight crack in the beige stone-tiled floor of the small triangular bar area. He digs his phone out of his pocket and quickly checks his schedule; he has no classes today or heavy assignments he needs to complete tonight. And his social life…well.... He sighs and tries not to give into the inevitable. “Cooper, you know that I don’t need…I don’t want to take the money from you; it’s not that; it’s just…just…I—”

 

“Blaine, please, you know I wouldn’t ask if I really didn’t need you. You’re my baby bro, and this restaurant is my baby; please look after it for me while I’m not there. I’ll get back as soon as I can. I won’t ask you to work at all next week. The whole week off!”

 

“Lucky me.”

 

“Come on, Blaine. Please—”

 

Blaine eventually cracks and chuckles. “Ok, ok. Quit whining, Coop; it doesn’t suit you. I’ll stay. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of things until you get back.”

 

Blaine can hear Cooper’s smile in his voice. He can just picture his older brother’s handsome face, with his thick black hair flicked and swept up with use of a dozen hair products, his chiselled cheek bones jutting out, bright blue eyes sparkling with delight, and a dazzling white smile to match.

 

In Blaine’s opinion, Cooper was always the slightly better looking, more outgoing Anderson. He’s older than Blaine by ten years, too, which undoubtedly helps with the self-confidence. He was the kid who used to perform at family parties and get-togethers, the kind of kid for whom random old ladies would fish in their purses to give him pocket money.

 

Everyone had pegged him to pursue a dramatic arts degree or something, and it had come as a complete surprise when Cooper had unexpectedly wandered down the catering and hospitality career track instead.

 

“Yes! Thank you. This is why you’re the best little brother in the world!” Cooper calls excitedly through the phone.

 

“Don’t call me little.”  

 

“Sorry, but you are. Anyway, thanks! Love ya, bro. So listen—you’ll be working with Finn, the new guy tonight when Nat finishes her shift. You’ve never met him, but he’s cool…a bit…um…slow, but real nice. You’ll get along; I promise. I actually think—nay, I _know_ —that you have a lot in common with him. See ya!”

 

And then Cooper is gone, leaving Blaine with just the dull, outdated dial tone droning through the handset.

 

Blaine doesn’t dare think about what Cooper may be hinting with his very not-so-subtle tone and use of wording. He puts the phone back in its station, picks up his tray again, and steps out from behind the bar. The noises from the kitchen sound as colorful as ever as he passes, glancing through the small doorway where he can just make out a blur of white coats and hats.

 

He’s so busy peeking that he almost collides into Natalia who has a small basket of freshly cut slices of bread in her hands and a little saucer piled high with butter packets.

 

“Hey, Bambino. What time is your big bro getting here?” she asks.

 

Blaine avoids eye contact with her and ducks his head, scuffing his shoe on the floor tiles.

 

She makes a face. “Don’t tell me you’re boss man again tonight?” She grins and steps past Blaine to place her items down on a side table stacked with napkins, pepper-mills and salt-grinders. Blaine just shrugs and smiles shyly. “Aw, you’re too good to him, y’know. You’re just too nice.” She smiles, petting at his shoulder as she picks up a pepper-mill and a small ceramic dish of grated parmesan cheese before disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

 

Blaine may be an openly gay young adult, but there’s something about Natalia that often makes him blush like a schoolgirl. She is a petite woman in her late twenties, with long dark hair always braided back behind her shoulders into one long plait, and round, chocolate brown eyes. She’s always been kind to Blaine ever since Cooper pulled him into this business. She taught him what she knew, trained him up and helped him change from somebody with no serving experience to pretty much deputy manager in a short space of time.

 

LA can be a tough place for all who work and live there, and with his heavy load of classes, Blaine actually is grateful that he’s been able to slide right into a job to help him save up a little money for future prospects.

 

Blaine can’t lie; _Cooper’s_ is genuinely a nice place to be and to work. Mario, the head chef, is widely recognized for his innovative and four-star dishes. Bruno, the sous-chef, is well known for his humor and loyalty, and Nat may be a warm hearted, welcoming piece of eye candy out front, but she certainly knows how to keep everybody in line with a glare of those dark, fierce eyes. Together, with Cooper at the helm and Blaine assisting, they all make quite the team at _Cooper Ti Ama_.

 

The good looks and charm of the Anderson brothers certainly don’t hurt business, either.

 

Blaine is smart and kind and polite—and god knows he has way more sense and maturity than Cooper, no matter how much younger he is. But they’ve always been pretty close, and Cooper has always looked out for him in some way, whether it be near or far. Their mother wanted Blaine to study medicine because of his kind nature, and their father wanted him to do anything but music or performing of any kind. While Cooper didn’t quite understand Blaine’s passion, he was supportive nonetheless, frequently in the face of parental pressure—and that meant the world to Blaine.

 

Despite wanting to satisfy his parents, there was something about LA that was just calling to Blaine—especially after the small-town attitudes he had been used to. Also, UCLA’s music and performing arts programs had more to offer than he ever could have hoped for, and when his acceptance letter came, his mind was already set and his bags were already packed.

 

Blaine wasn’t very surprised when Cooper had enlisted his help with the restaurant straight away. At first it started off with “just help decorate or move some tables around”; then it had been “just seat people when they come in”; then “just serve a few easy, quiet tables” and, as soon as he’d turned 21, “just man the bar.” Before he knew it, Blaine was on the books, able to take care of all facets of the business and earning regular wages and pretty generous tips. 

 

Blaine doesn’t _hate_ working at the restaurant; he enjoys the customer interaction and the fast pace of the work, and the tips are nothing to complain about, either. It’s just that, it’s not his _thing._ For some people, people like Cooper, serving and waiting on patrons is kind of like a buzz, something they choose to do again and again for the pure enjoyment of it. For Blaine, though—he just wants to save up his tips, graduate, and then find his dream job. Find his life, find his true _self._

However, there _is_ something about the restaurant’s atmosphere that secretly compels Blaine. It moves him and captures him, although he would never admit it aloud.

 

Blaine Anderson loves _love_. That’s it, plain and sweetly simple. He loves the way it must feel to be in love, to be surrounded by it. He knows he’ll love the way it looks and smells and tastes. How every color will seem brighter and every scent richer. And at _Cooper Ti Ama_ , he sees how people’s faces seem to light up from within, and love seems to shine from their very eyes.

 

At _Cooper Ti Ama_ , Blaine has witnessed many first dates, anniversary dinners, engagement celebrations, and even an occasional proposal. There’s no denying that _Cooper’s_ is filled with love of all kinds. The soft lilting tones of Italian music or soft jazz sounding from the wall speakers pull you in. The rich scent of the freshly prepared food beckons you like a delicious trap. The soft lighting and quiet atmosphere lull you, and it all combines to almost a siren’s call, urging you to return again and again.

 

And, secretly, Blaine can’t get enough of it, although he’d never admit such to his brother or anyone else.

 

The thing is, as much as Blaine loves love, he’s never found himself lucky in love. However, he’s never found himself _unlucky_ in love, either. Sometimes he can’t decide which is worse.

 

There have been lingering glances, friendly-flirty emails sent back and forth, numerous crushes. But nothing has ever amounted to _love_. The kind of love that Blaine secretly dreams of.

 

Blaine glances up and over to the far corner of the restaurant, where there’s a small patch of hardwood floor, empty and clear of chairs and tables, highlighted by a wedge of sunshine pouring in though the bay windows.

 

No, serving customers and clients is not for Blaine. Playing for them, _performing_ for them, is.

 

 _Soon_ , he thinks. Soon there may be a keyboard propped up on a metal stand over there, and his apron and black shirt and pants may be replaced with a nice pair of dress jeans and a crisp new plaid button down, and maybe a matching bowtie, as he plays and sings for the diners.

 

He will be doing something that he _loves,_ in order to receive and to _feel_ love and appreciation in return. And the “Ti Ama” part of the restaurant’s name will mean more than one might suspect. Because, maybe then he’ll find himself, and he’ll gain the confidence from music and from playing and performing that he has dreamt about.

 

And then maybe he’ll use that newfound confidence to branch out and grasp at any given chance and opportunity he can, and then maybe… _hopefully_ …he’ll find a special _someone_ for him too.

 

*

 

As the lunch shift slowly and gruellingly changes over to the dinner shift, Blaine is all too glad of a quick refreshment break while the floor is quiet. He ducks into the staff washroom with Cooper’s toiletries bag from the office desk drawer. He’s thankful when he finds a small jar of gel to try and mold his curls into a sleeked-back style while looking at the golden-framed mirror nailed to the turquoise-tiled wall.

 

Blaine often has been told he is handsome—sometimes by kind-hearted customers as they leave him a tip and sometimes by guys or girls with a hastily scribbled note on a napkin. Not your average handsome, chiselled sort of guy, like Cooper, but actually stunningly handsome. He doesn’t believe this to be true, but he’s been told often enough that he at least knows he isn’t bad-looking. Like his brother, he has olive-toned skin, and jet-black hair, which is always styled to perfection. He has bright hazel eyes, speckled with green or, depending on the lighting, deep amber. Regardless, they pierce brightly wherever he looks.

 

Despite everyone else’s opinions, though, Blaine feels a bit more like the kind of wallflower movies and books portray—a decent-looking young man with a nice voice and a personality filled with life and ambition—but sadly he’s not quite where he feels like he wants to be in life, not yet.

 

“Ok, Bambino?” Natalia asks Blaine as he reappears from the back. She’s leaning up against the bar, politely waving goodbye to the last of the current bunch of customers. She loosens her hair from the controlled twist it’s been in during her shift and fishes a chap stick from the apron tied around her slim hips.

 

Blaine nods and smiles shyly at her. Natalia smacks her lips together and then glances down at her watch. “Ok, well, enjoy tonight. Finn’s a nice guy, by the way. He should be here any minute. You’ll make a good team. I’m going to pick up my bambini from school.” Her accent is very well-spoken English with just a hint of Italian occasionally rolling out through some of the vowels. She blows air kisses all around as she leaves.

 

As her footsteps echo from the entryway of the restaurant, Blaine takes a brisk walk around to neaten things up and replace used items.

 

The restaurant is small but structurally beautiful with exposed red brick walls and touches of dark brown varnished wooden beams crossing the ceiling. There are potted miniature citrus trees interspersed throughout, with strings of white fairy lights wrapped and twined through the tiny green leaves. There’s art everywhere—paintings of landscapes and famous Italian landmarks, photos of singers and actors on almost every wall, and an eye-catching water feature trickling away in the small entrance foyer, waiting to greet patrons as they come through the front door.

 

The chandeliers are artfully constructed of large, clear wine glasses hanging upside down with a bright round bulb dangling in each of their centers, light bouncing off the reflective glass. Blaine chuckles as he looks up, remembering how much time he and Cooper had spent together trying to construct and hang the chandeliers without too many mishaps.

 

It’s a pleasant little place to be, not like any of those big chain restaurants that serve pre-cooked, reheated meals, charge a fortune for them, and then try to hurry diners out the door the moment their dessert spoon hits the empty plate because they want the table for new prey.

 

In the beginning, Blaine hadn’t completely understood why Cooper invested so much effort and money in this place, why he cared so much, or what the big thrill was. But now that he’s here, too, now that he’s been a part of it, it’s hard not to fall in love with the gentle simplicity that _Cooper Ti Ama_ brings.

 

He understands now why his older brother had chosen the name for the place, which loosely translates into English as _Cooper Loves You_. Yes, Cooper can be a little big-headed and arrogant at times, and he loves attention and eats up any slice of limelight he can, but he’s not unkind or mean. He’s a nice guy with a big heart, and he has invested everything into this little restaurant—a little restaurant filled with big love. 

 

They do say, after all, that love is food for the heart.

 

*

 

Just as Blaine is relighting all the candles in the restaurant, he hears the click of the door opening, and seconds later it swings open with a slight squeak.

 

A _giant_ appears, almost filling the whole doorway.

 

“Hi! I’m Finn.” Okay, so he’s not a giant, but he’s really, really tall with a broad chest and shoulders and big feet. Finn waves and smiles a toothy grin as he shrugs off his jacket, hangs it up on the coat rack by the door, and picks up an apron from the pile on the desk. “You must be Blaine. It’s good to meet you, dude.”

 

As Blaine confirms his identity, they shake hands, and Finn sets about polishing some glasses from the drying rack, just as if he’s being doing this job his whole life. Okay, so the guy’s a _nice_ giant, apparently, with soft brown hair and warm eyes.

 

“So your brother tells me you’re gay,” Finn blurts out, an oblivious yet happy look on his face as he places the glasses back on their shelf.

 

Blaine stops folding napkins and looks at Finn from across the room. He nods weakly with a shy half smile, but before he can muster up something to say, Finn’s nodding back to him happily as he bounces among the tables, making sure everything is set.

 

“Cool.” And with that Finn disappears to collect some menus, preparing to greet the new customers he sees coming through the door.

 

Blaine takes that opportunity to quickly slip back into the office as Cooper’s words from their earlier phone conversation tumble around in his head.

 

_“I think you may have a lot in common with him.”_

Oh, how Blaine would like to strangle his brother at times! He closes the office door, pulls his cell phone from his pocket, and calls Cooper. It rings into voicemail. Typical. He then opens up a new message window and starts tapping furiously.

 

**“A lot in common with him”? Really, Cooper? You’re trying to set me up with one of your waiters?!?**

Blaine waits for a few moments, his phone gripped tightly in his palm. He’s not surprised when Cooper doesn’t reply.

 

He can hear Finn’s happy, friendly voice, greeting hungry customers as they enter the restaurant. He shoves his phone back into his pocket, checks his hair with a slide of his fingers and, taking a deep breath, goes out to continue working.

 

He can do this; he can be friendly and polite, and Finn doesn’t seem so bad. He’s certainly handsome, maybe a little too tall, but he’s nice all the same. Blaine decides that, all things considered, he could at least end this night with one more friend than he had before, and that’s nothing to complain about.

 

*

Happy hour is a blur, just as crazy as Cooper had promised. A whirlwind of hungry and thirsty customers, in groups in all shapes and sizes, all pile in and out of the restaurant in the space of two hours. By the time 7pm hits, the early bird menus have been put away, and the last of the customers are finishing off their desserts and drinks.

 

Blaine doesn’t expect there to be much more business tonight. It’s a Monday night; people are tired and pretty well spent from the weekend. If they were going to come out to eat, most people would have come while the prices were low and the sun was still out.

 

Finn smiles as he passes with a tray of fresh napkins to fold and put out. “I think we’re looking at a quiet one tonight huh, dude?”

 

“Yup,” Blaine replies, nodding as he straightens out some empty tables and chairs. “Cooper should be back soon, I think.”

 

Just as the words leave Blaine’s mouth, the door opens behind them. Blaine turns, expecting his brother, but his jaw drops as a man walks in—tall and slim with light, russet-brown hair swept up in a fashionable style, with a pair of dark sunglasses sitting on top, creating a pretty impressive coif. His eyes, a mix of light blue and green resembling sea glass, sweep around the room, his soft pink lips parting into a sweet half smile.

 

“Hey!” Finn calls from behind Blaine. Blaine can’t move, can’t talk, and can’t stop staring at the beauty in front of him. He’s never seen a man so compelling. He’s dressed in a pair of faded denim slouch jeans, yet they still manage to hug his thighs and the swell of his buttocks superbly. With a form-fitting patterned shirt tucked into the waistline of his jeans and the long sleeves rolled messily up to his elbows, Blaine is aware of how impressively this guy dresses, even when he’s going for a casual appearance. Not like Blaine’s looking or anything, of course.

 

Finn strides forward until he’s just inches away from the beautiful stranger. “Little brother, I didn’t think you’d make it.” He beams and then lunges forward and takes the guy into his arms, lifting him up onto his tiptoes. “Good to see you man; glad you came! You hungry?”

 

“Finn, if you squeeze much harder, I won’t have a stomach to feed,” he laughs as Finn sets him back down. “And I’m definitely hungry. What’s good on the menu? Any recommendations?” the young man continues in a soft and lilting voice. He glances back to Blaine for just a beat before he’s ushered away by Finn to find a table.

 

Blaine’s heart almost stops. Those _eyes_ and those _lips…_ Blaine feels the full force of his smiling eyes and lips just as the man turns away, Finn tugging him along.

 

Suddenly, Blaine’s interest in Finn, or should he say _lack_ of interest, doesn’t seem quite so vast or important.

 

“Um…sorry, dude, but you kinda missed happy hour,” Blaine overhears Finn telling the man, and, before he can stop himself, his feet are already moving.

 

“Oh, that’s all right, Finn. I’m sure we could make an exception for your…brother… right?”

 

Finn grins all wide and bright while the guy who’s now sitting graciously at a small corner table just blinks up at Blaine, slowly offering a small but lovely smile.

 

“Oh, cool. Thanks, man. This is a family place after all, huh?” Finn says. “Um, Kurt? This is Blaine, Cooper’s brother…Cooper owns this place. Blaine, this is my little brother, Kurt.”

 

“I’m three months older than you, Finn.” Kurt says, his voice light and airy and melodic. But he’s not looking at Finn; he’s looking directly at Blaine, his eyes sparkling with something Blaine can’t quite decipher.

 

“Whatever.” Finn shrugs and then explains to Blaine, “We’re step-brothers. We live in Lima, Ohio. I came out here to visit my friend, Puck, for the summer, and Kurt came out here to visit me. We graduated college last year…well Kurt did, I was supposed to and then—”

 

“Ok, Finn. I’m sure Blaine here really appreciates hearing our life story.” He laughs a little self-consciously and leans up to tap at Finn’s chest. “Could I get a diet Coke, please?” he asks pointedly.

 

“Oh, yeah. Sure, no problem. I’ll be right back.” Finn takes off for the bar, happy as if he’s just been given the million-dollar job, and Kurt settles back down into his seat, crossing one leg primly over the other.

 

Blaine just stands there, staring.

 

“So…your brother owns this place, huh? It looks fantastic, and I’ve heard that the food is excellent. It was nice of him to give Finn a job for the summer.”

 

It takes Blaine half a second to realize that Kurt isn’t just sitting there, looking beautiful, but looking up at Blaine, waiting.

 

_Oh, shit. Words, Blaine. Say words._

“Ah, um. Uh-huh, yeah. He’s nice. My…my brother and yours are nice. Nice restaurant and food, too, yeah.”

 

_Better words, Blaine. Use better words!_

 

Blaine rubs a hand at the back of his neck, oblivious of Kurt’s adoring smile directed his way until a small but delicious giggle has Blaine gawking at Kurt like a besotted teenager.

 

“You work here full time?” Kurt asks, his tone indicating that he’s genuinely interested. Blaine gathers his thoughts and surprises himself by answering at least somewhat intelligently.

 

“Not really…well, I’m not supposed to anyway. But Coop has me working whenever he can. I don’t mind helping him out, though. It’s kinda cool here, and the paycheck helps, of course.”

 

Kurt nods and smiles, and Blaine waits for him to say something. Then he realizes Kurt is waiting for _him_ to say more, his eyes wide open, bright, and interested.

 

“I…um…I’m in my last semester. I’m studying music history, theory, and composition at UCLA.”

 

“Oh, wow—that sounds amazing!” Kurt says; his voice is upbeat, and his eyes grow impossibly wider as he smiles and nods enthusiastically.

 

All Blaine can do is offer a shy grin and nod bashfully as he feels a blush of heat crawl up his neck and onto his cheeks.

 

Blaine snaps his head back up when Kurt enthusiastically adds, “I love musical theatre—anything having to do with Broadway and performing! Are you into that?”

 

“Wh…what like in New York? Yes, of course! I love it! Actually, I want to move there when I graduate and maybe, you know, _hopefully,_ compose for a…a show or get involved in any way I can…” He slows down as he realizes he’s gotten way too excited, practically spilling his guts about all of his hopes and dreams to a complete stranger.

 

But when he looks up, there is nothing but friendly admiration shining in Kurt’s eyes and his cheeks are rosy spots of color. There’s a look on Kurt’s face that cannot really be interpreted as anything other than clear and utter excitement.

 

Kurt opens his mouth to say something else, and Blaine tries to do the same, but before either of them can speak, Finn is back with Kurt’s drink balanced on a small hand tray, and both Blaine and Kurt seem unable to continue their conversation with him standing there.

 

“One diet Coke. And with no ice—I remember how you don’t like ice.”  Kurt takes the drink from Finn and offers him a thumbs-up followed by a sassy wink, which then earns him a playful shoulder nudge in return. Blaine smiles and lets a chuckle escape before he can catch it.

 

“Oh, hey, they want you in the kitchen, Blaine,” Finn says, turning to him while pulling out his notepad to take his brother’s food order.

 

“Oh, uh, ok.” Blaine swallows, suddenly, strangely disappointed. His order pad feels heavy in the pocket of his apron, and his fingers wriggle to reach for it. He wants to stay where he is and talk to Kurt some more.

 

Kurt is still looking at him, still smiling sweetly.

 

Reluctantly, Blaine turns on his heel and heads for the kitchen, offering one last parting smile over his shoulder as he turns the corner.

 

*

 

As the evening goes on, a few other tables are filled, but nothing too rushed or busy. Blaine and Finn handle the tables and patrons smoothly and efficiently between them and, when there’s a small gap in between duties, Finn (naturally) and Blaine (craftily) take turns to check on Kurt at his table.

 

Blaine offers him free refills and his choice of dipping sauces or side dishes. He brings a variety of olive oil mixtures, flavored butters, and different breads, and persuades Mario to make his special pizzette for Kurt to try, even though they’re no longer available on the menu.

 

Blaine continues to check with Kurt to see if he needs anything, and while Finn is busy in back preparing desserts for another table, Kurt stops Blaine from moving away by lightly brushing two fingers along his wrist, smiling with a bit of a glint in his eye.

 

Startled, Blaine looks down at his wrist in surprise, and Kurt immediately pulls back, blushing furiously.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be um…inappropriate. I…I just wanted to say thank you for being so generous tonight. I’ll be sure to leave a good review and recommend your brother’s restaurant,” he sputters quickly. But, in a move bolder than he’s ever made before, Blaine quickly reaches down and squeezes Kurt’s shoulder reassuringly.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, smiling at Kurt. “You just surprised me, that’s all. You’re not being inappropriate; don’t worry. And thank you for your kind comments; I’m sure it’ll make Coop’s day.” 

 

They both smile and blink at each other for what feels like the longest time until Kurt clears his throat and glances around the restaurant.

 

“Oh, you’re busy, and you have other customers. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to keep you.” But he doesn’t look sorry at all, and Blaine doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest.

 

“Don’t worry about it; Finn can handle them,” Blaine says with a small wave of his hand. “Call it a special one-on-one service.” He gestures between the two of them and then suddenly snaps his mouth closed and stumbles off, quickly turning a corner and leaving Kurt, who is giggling to himself.

 

*

 

When Kurt is finished with his meal, Blaine arrives to remove the used china and cutlery. Kurt is still grinning cheekily, and Blaine can’t help but grin a little bit in return.

 

“That was really delicious, and I ate far too much,” Kurt says to him, leaning back in his chair and patting his full belly happily. Then he unexpectedly adds, “You’re kind of cool; you know that?”

 

“Huh?” Startled, Blaine looks at him quizzically as he carefully stacks the dishes on his tray.

 

“You know…” Kurt shrugs. “Any other guy probably would have acted a little weird back then, you know with my being gay and…” he pauses, looking up at Blaine. “What?” he asks, as Blaine stands frozen in place, his face an absolute Kodak moment. Blaine’s hand, holding a dirty dish starts to slip, and a knife slides from the plate and drops on to the wooden flooring with a loud clang.

 

Blaine startles back to life, and Kurt just stares at him, as do a number of other patrons.

 

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks him. “Did I say something wrong? I…um…I thought Finn might have told you that I’m uh…” Kurt trails off as he starts to lean down to pick up the knife, where it landed beside his foot. Blaine beats him to it; he swoops down to pick up the knife, steadying his tray with a hand, and adds the knife to it.

 

“No…uh…god, no. It’s…um…well, I…I’m gay. I didn’t realise you were, too, and you were worried about being inappropriate, and I was worried I was pestering you and…hey, we’re both gay,” Blaine mumbles, his mouth screwed up into a surprised but delighted grin.

 

Suddenly they’re both laughing, at first a nervous giggle of realization but soon a full on belly-aching laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Blaine laughs so much that the knife almost slips and falls again, and Kurt just points and laughs harder.

 

Finn appears from around the corner, his lips falling into a grin as Kurt and Blaine’s infectious laughter reaches his ears, and he sees the way the two are looking at each other.

 

“What’s the punch line? What did I miss?” he asks, chuckling along.

 

No one answers him. Blaine quickly walks towards the kitchen with a pink flush covering his face, and Kurt just sighs and gives Finn a look that says _great timing, Finn._     

 

*

 

By 9:00, the restaurant is much quieter. The kitchen closes in twenty minutes, there’s still no sign of Cooper, and all of the tables are vacant except one.

 

Finn is standing at Kurt’s table, folding napkins while Kurt finishes his slice of salted caramel and vanilla cheesecake and a latte—complimentary, at Blaine’s insistence, of course.

 

Blaine is behind the bar, polishing glasses and watching the two as they interact playfully together.

 

He’s never been one to make _a_ move—never been the guy to roll out the chat-up lines or have the confidence to venture down that path. But there’s something about Kurt that makes Blaine think about it—makes him maybe want to…try. When Finn is called from the kitchen to go and collect some freshly cleaned dishes to help stack up, Blaine sees his chance and makes his decision.

 

“Hey” Blaine begins, quietly calling out to Kurt from across the bar as soon as Finn is out of sight and earshot. Kurt looks up with a smile and scoops a corner of cheesecake onto his fork. “Um…” he continues, a little more confidently, “…so Finn said you guys are from Lima, Ohio? Cooper and I are from Westerville originally; our parents still live there; so not that far from you guys. Small world, huh?” He chuckles for effect, but also because he’s nervous. It’s not just that he hasn’t been the one to initiate conversation that often in the past (he communicates much better through his music), but a conversation with Kurt seems so much more…important…somehow.

 

Kurt smiles as he slowly pulls the fork from his mouth, savoring the bite of delicious cheesecake, and then swallows. Blaine bites his lip as he watches and waits for a response.

 

“Yeah, small world, definitely,” Kurt says once his mouth is free to talk. His eyes are bright and sparkling under the glow from the chandeliers. “Only I don’t live there now; I moved away from home after I graduated high school.”

 

It’s silly really, because Blaine did the same thing; he’s lived in LA where he’s attended UCLA for several years. But for some reason his stomach drops, knowing that if he were to go back home to visit his parents, he and Kurt wouldn’t coincidently bump into each other at a mall or coffee shop because Kurt wouldn’t be in Ohio.

 

Blaine looks down, trying to gather his thoughts. “Oh, I see. Cool. Where…um…if you don’t mind…”

 

“I don’t mind you asking, Blaine,” Kurt chuckles. His voice is clear and unwavering. “I went to Tisch at NYU. I graduated last year, and I still live in New York. I rent an apartment in Williamsburg, which is in Brooklyn. And I’m currently a Broadway understudy.”

 

Blaine’s feels as if all of his internal organs are mashed all together, with his stomach lurching about. His heart is thumping wildly, feeling as if it’s jumped up to his throat, while at the same time it’s slamming against his ribcage.

 

When he looks up again, Kurt is beaming at him and his eyes are twinkling.

 

“Oh,” Blaine manages to say, somewhat breathily.

 

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, his voice still light and airy, although perhaps there’s a hint of shyness attached to it now.

 

Forgetting his own shyness, Blaine continues, “Wow! That’s amazing. Is it a musical? What role?” He had stopped polishing glasses long ago; he puts down his dish towel and comes out from behind the bar, walking closer to Kurt’s table.

 

“Fyedka…in _Fiddler on the Roof_ ,” Kurt replies, grinning with a slight shoulder shrug.

 

Blaine smiles broadly and steps closer. “You know, in high school I played Motel Kamzoil,” he says a little bashfully.

 

Kurt claps his hands together. “Yes! We’re practically cast brothers!” They laugh together, and Blaine is so delighted that he momentarily forgets to be nervous.   

 

 “So…um…” Kurt begins, once the laughter has died down and they’re grinning at each other. “…Maybe, you know, after you graduate …if you…”

 

“Whoo-Hoo! It’s quitting time!” comes Finn’s loud voice as he yells from around the corner. When he appears, he’s wearing a jacket over his shirt, has a daypack on his shoulder, and is tugging his apron free from around his waist.

 

Blaine deflates from inside out.

 

“Come on, dude; pay up, and let’s go. Puck’s waiting for us at a bar a few blocks over. He says you’ll like it because it has those fancy cocktail things you like,” Finn says excitedly as he approaches the table. Blaine slowly backs away.

 

“Oh, …ok. Yeah, sure. Let me just…” Kurt delicately wipes at his mouth with a napkin and stands from the table. He reaches inside his jeans pocket and pulls out a black leather wallet.

 

“Oh no…no, it’s fine…really. It’s on me…um, the house. It’s on the house,” Blaine splutters, hands waving a bit frantically in the air in front of Kurt and then almost face-palms himself at the ridiculousness of it all until Kurt’s delightful giggle stops him.

 

“Oh, thank you so much; that’s so generous of you. Tonight has been lovely,” Kurt says, smiling widely, and neither Blaine nor Finn misses the slight blush settling over his cheeks.

 

“Hey,” Finn says, turning to Blaine. “You could join us! We’re just heading to Oliver’s. You know it?”

 

Blaine feels his throat go dry. He presses his lips together and nods weakly. He doesn’t do bars, or crowds, or drinking. He doesn’t do much socializing at all. When he isn’t waiting on people, his façade disappears, the walls come down, and he is just Blaine again. Blaine who just does music. That’s all he actually _really know_ s. “Y…yeah I know it, but…um…I gotta stay here and wait for Cooper.” He glances briefly from Finn to Kurt, and his heart plummets a little. Kurt’s eyes are rounded and shining with what looks like hope, but his mouth is down turned a little.

 

Finn is undeterred. “Oh, sure. Okay, but when Cooper gets back, come on down and meet us, okay?” he says with a smile and then starts ushering Kurt away from the table and towards the exit.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Kurt,” Blaine says a little dejectedly. It’s weird; he feels happy and sad all at once. “I hope you have a safe trip back home.”

 

Kurt stops just before he reaches the door and turns to face Blaine. “It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Blaine. Thanks again. I’m…um…I’m actually here for two weeks. I arrived a few days ago, but my friend Mercedes lives in LA; so I’ve been with her today. I didn’t know if I’d make it here for dinner tonight, but then Mercedes got called in to work.”

 

Blaine’s heart soars once again, and he can only hope it doesn’t show on his face. “Oh…” He’s filled from head to toe with a feeling of hope—something he hasn’t felt in a long time.  

 

“Yeah; so you might see each other a little more,” Finn joins in, clearly not catching on. “If I’m here, Kurt might come to hang out and wait for my shift to end.”

 

“I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem,” Blaine says a little too enthusiastically. Then, with a small smile, he manages, “We have other flavor cheesecakes for you to try?” Kurt smiles back at him—the same sweetly soft smile he has been offering Blaine all night.

 

“I’d like that. Definitely,” Kurt says and, before the two can try to continue their slightly awkward conversation, Finn’s cell phone starts ringing.

 

“That’ll be Puck,” he says, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. “Come on, man. See you later, Blaine!” Finn calls over his shoulder as he opens the door.

 

Kurt walks to the doorway after Finn. He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder and with one last dazzling grin directed at Blaine, he says “Maybe I’ll see you later, too,” and then he’s gone.

 

Blaine just stands there for a moment in the middle of the now empty restaurant. He steps backwards and sags against the bar.

 

_What the hell just happened? Was I just flirting? Am I being hit on? Holy wow!_

 

He has only a few moments of silence in which to ponder the evening before he hears footsteps. Excitement and anticipation floods him. Could it be…?

 

“Little brother! I _love_ you! Thank you so much.” Cooper closes the door, looking tired and worn, but handsome nonetheless in dark gray slacks, a black t-shirt, and a worn leather jacket. His megawatt smile is directed right at Blaine, obviously happy to see his little brother. “I know I owe you big time.”

 

“Don’t mention it, Coop,” Blaine mumbles. “It’s fine. I’m happy to help, really. You know that.”

 

Cooper claps him on the shoulder as he passes, smoothly pulling a glass and a bottle of something brown from behind the bar. “I know, but you’ve got your dissertation to write. I know that’s really important. Like I said, I’ll cover your shifts for the whole next week, or even two weeks. Take as much time as you need to get your work done.”

 

Blaine begins to nod until— “Hey…um, you know, I don’t think I really need all of that time off. I think I’d go a little stir crazy. I think that Finn and I hit it off tonight; you know we…uh…we work well…together, I mean. Good teamwork,” Blaine finishes lamely with a rush of breath.

 

Cooper arches an eyebrow and grins around the glass of whatever he’s drinking. “Is that right?” he asks, with a curious look.

 

“So I was just thinking that maybe I could work whenever Finn is working for the next…like two weeks… or something you know? Whatever.” He shrugs his shoulders, trying hard for nonchalance. “That way I’m not working too much; so I’ll have time for my school work, but I’m not completely out of the loop here either.”

 

Cooper nods, his eyes alight with something Blaine isn’t sure he should trust or not. “And what if Finn was working every day and night for the next ten days, huh?” he asks innocently.

 

Blaine nods his head up and down and eyes the ceiling, furrowing his brow as if he’s deep in thought. “Well, I guess that would be okay. The extra money wouldn’t hurt, and…”

 

Cooper barks out a laugh, interrupting Blaine, and sets his glass on the counter top. He slides a hand into the pocket of his pants. “Here,” he says, holding his hand out to Blaine, his fist closed around something.

 

When Blaine steps closer to him with his palm facing up and open, Cooper slides a ten dollar bill into his hand.

 

“What’s this?” Blaine asks, his face scrunched in confusion. Cooper usually pays him weekly and far more than just ten dollars.

 

“I saw Finn on my way up here.” Blaine continues to stare at him, the ten dollar bill lying almost forgotten in his fingers. “He said you guys had a good shift. His…brother gave me that. For you. Said it was a tip for your _great_ service,” he adds, smirking a little before continuing, “and that he expects to see you soon.” At that Cooper doesn’t even try to hide his devilish grin anymore as he reaches out to playfully shake Blaine by the shoulders.

 

“You knew,” Blaine whispers as realization slowly starts to wash over him. “You totally knew…and when you said I had common ground with Finn…”

 

“Yeah, I’d already met the kid. He’s got a great smile, huh? And, yes, I’m totally trying to set you up with him, not Finn,” Cooper says as he smiles almost manically with wide, blue eyes. “Really, come to think about it, it’s _me_ that has common ground with Finn—we both have gay brothers. How awesome is that?” He pauses a moment, then adds dramatically, as if suddenly struck by inspiration, “Hey, what if this whole time the whole reason for my having this place is to bag you a boyfriend, huh? Like you and Kurt were destined to meet, and _Cooper’s_ brought you together. _Cooper’s—The Recipe for Love…_ no, no… _Cooper’s—The Kitchen of Love._ Oh, wait!... _Cooper’s Love Kitchen_ …”

 

Blaine can’t help but laugh at his insane brother, who really does have a big heart beneath his layers of self-love.

 

“Blainey…”

 

“Don’t call me that…” Blaine replies, though still chuckling.

 

“Listen to me. No joking here.” And when Blaine looks up, his brother’s face is far from joking, although his tone is still light and slightly teasing. “You need this, and I want this for you. You’re a good kid; you work hard, and you deserve everything great that comes your way. And that’s including this Kurt guy…who I believe to be just as much into you as you are into him. I mean who wouldn’t be? You’re a catch, little brother.”

 

Blaine grins lopsidedly and rolls his eyes. “Was Finn in on this, too?” he asks.

 

“No, but I knew he’d still help create the magic.”

 

“The magic?”

 

“The magic of love.”

 

“Cooper, you’re an idiot.”

 

“But you love me.”

 

“Yes, I do. I really do.”

 

“Alrighty then. Now go get you a Kurt. _Your Kurt._ In _Cooper’s Kitchen of Love_!”

 

*

 

Blaine had played with the idea of going to Oliver’s, especially after listening to his brother’s persuasive tactics, but closing everything up had taken too long, and he was hesitant to show up so late, and he knew there would people he didn’t know there, like this “Puck”. He regrets it when Finn comes into work with a raging hangover the next day and explains Kurt is out of town with his friend, Mercedes for the day. Blaine sulks the entire time, kicking himself for not being more confident.

 

The next day Finn isn’t on shift rotation, but Blaine swings by Cooper’s at lunch time anyway. He’s spent the whole morning trying to work at his computer and even with pencil and paper. He’s sat with his fingers wrapped around the neck of his guitar with his mouth open and words on his tongue, but no sounds have emerged.

 

Deciding he needs a break, he goes to the restaurant to pick up a pizza (perks of the job). He’s just about to leave, enjoying the aroma of a fresh, hot pizza coming from the take-out box he’s holding, when Kurt steps through the doorway, pretending to knock on the already open door.

 

He’s dressed as impeccably as he was the first time Blaine saw him. “Knock, knock,” he says with a wide smile, his eyes lighting up when they land on Blaine. His eyes shift down to the box in Blaine’s hands. “Oh…um, is there maybe enough pizza for two?” he asks, a little hesitantly.

 

Blaine’s heart flutters with hope.

 

*

 

“I’m sorry I never stopped by yesterday,” Kurt says as he finishes his final slice of pizza. They’re sitting on a bench on the promenade, overlooking the ocean and the activities taking place on the sun-filled beach. The pizza box is sitting open between them, with just a few crusts and splotches of sauce left.

 

As small and silly as it may seem, sharing pizza with Kurt, using only their fingers and a wad of napkins taken from the restaurant, is the most intimate type of dining experience he’s ever had with a man. _A very attractive, gay and, hopefully, available man_.

 

Kurt tries to use a napkin to clean his hands and then, giving into the inevitable, daintily licks his fingers clean.

 

Suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his last mouthful as he watches Kurt, Blaine finally gulps and manages to rasp, “Don’t be sorry; this was worth the wait.” He smiles the best he can, trying not to be too obvious, but he can’t help himself as his eyes flick back and forth between Kurt’s eyes and what he’s doing with those last licks.

 

He tries to focus just on Kurt’s face, and that’s almost worse as he is momentarily stunned by the way the afternoon sunlight catches Kurt’s hair and his blue-green eyes, which almost seem to reflect the ocean’s depths. Kurt’s skin is pale and smooth, especially compared to all the sun-lovers in southern California, but oh so lovely. As Blaine looks more closely, though, he can make out a few light patches of tanned freckles scattered over Kurt’s perfectly sloped nose and the peaks of his cheekbones. He pulls his eyes away as he realizes Kurt is still talking.

 

“I…I wanted to,” Kurt says, smiling back at him. “But Mercedes had planned a day for us and wasn’t letting me back out of it.”

 

“Why would you want to back out of plans with an old friend to go to some little restaurant instead?” Blaine laughs, a little self-deprecatingly.

 

“Because I like you,” Kurt replies, shrugging as if it’s no big deal to be so candid. His eyes are shining, open and honest, and Blaine has to gulp down his gasp. 

 

Blaine just stares at Kurt for a few long, silent seconds. It could be described as gawking, actually, but Kurt just smiles harder at him and doesn’t give him the chance to be embarrassed before he says, “Thank you for sharing your pizza with me.”

 

“Oh…it’s no problem. Really. Did you like it?” Blaine manages to reply as he rubs his fingers against the paper napkin in his hand, partly for cleaning and partly just to give hands something to do.

 

“Mmm. Delicious,” Kurt nods. “Good choice. I love a good, old, traditional pepperoni pizza. It’s so underrated these days with all of those other super toppings and stuffed crusts and whatnot.”

 

Blaine laughs lightly. “I know, right? Well, you know where to come if you ever need your traditional pizza needs filled,” he adds, feeling a small swell of pride inside when Kurt beams and giggles. _Oh how he loves that sound and that smile and the way that his eyes glow when he laughs._

With a wave of courage unexpectedly rolling over him, Blaine stands, puts the empty pizza box and used napkins in a nearby trashcan, and gestures to Kurt to come join him.

 

“Shall we…uh…you, um…would you want to…um…” and then finally blurts, “would you like to walk for a little while?” He takes a deep breath, gathers his wits, and waves his hand towards the length of the promenade curving out ahead in front of them, lit up by the sun and accentuated by the shimmer of the sea. Maybe sometime he’ll be able to form a clear sentence when he’s around Kurt.

 

Kurt all but springs up from the bench and stands alongside Blaine, starting out with a slow steady pace. “I’d love to.”

 

“I hope I haven’t kept you from anything important this afternoon,” Kurt says, breaking a few moments of peaceful silence save for the sounds of the gulls flying above the waves that are rolling in. His voice is quiet and gentle as they walk in step with each other, their hands almost brushing, but not quite. There are occasional glances and quirks of lips between them, but not much more than soft, hidden smiles and gazing out at the ocean.

 

“Oh no,” Blaine shakes his head. “Just studying and writing…composing.”

 

“So…everything?” Kurt remarks, with a cheeky look on his face and a playful tone to his voice.

 

Blaine makes _a playful, guilty_ face. “I needed a break,” Blaine clarifies, smiling. “I needed to get lunch anyway, but it’s been nice to get out and walk and talk. Be somewhere that doesn’t smell of garlic and something different than just the four walls of my bedroom. You know?”

 

Kurt laughs and nods. “Do you live with your brother?”

 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me stay in the dorms when I got accepted at UCLA. He doesn’t even charge me rent. He’s really good to me.”

 

“He sounds it. He’s certainly achieved something great with the restaurant and all.”

 

Blaine nods and thinks about the way he watched Kurt and Finn interact at the restaurant.

 

“It’s nice, the relationship you have with Finn,” Blaine comments. “You must be close for you to come and visit him while he’s here.”

 

“Yeah, we are. We weren’t always, but we got there in the end. He just got out of the army and decided to come and spend the summer here with Noah—well, everyone else calls him Puck—who has a pool cleaning business. I had some vacation time and a gap in my schedule; so I decided to come out and see how they’re doing.”

 

“That was nice of you,” Blaine tells him.

 

“He was there for me, and now I’m there for him.” Kurt smiles and shrugs casually. I guess we both have great brothers, huh?” Kurt chuckles.

 

 _Yeah, great brothers who very possibly are trying to set us up somehow,_ Blaine thinks, but debates whether to mention this to Kurt. Does Kurt even know about it? What would he think of it?

 

They pause their walk to let a guy on roller skates hurtle past them. Blaine continues to look pensive, and Kurt smiles at him. “So—you say I interrupted you from composing? Was it for school or something more personal?” Kurt asks, obviously deciding to drop the subject of brotherly love for now as they resume walking.

 

It’s weird, Blaine thinks, that it doesn’t actually feel _weird—_ this, right now, what he and Kurt are doing. He can’t decide if it’s as if they’re like two friends who have known each other for a long time and are just hanging out, or like two people getting to know each other, and enjoying each other’s company.

 

Or maybe…like a _date?—_

 

Hauling himself out of his own thoughts, Blaine answers a little abruptly, “Oh, um…a bit of both, I guess? I…uh…I write what I’m required to…and then I just sit at my keyboard or with my guitar and just…play.”

 

“Have you ever performed live?”

 

“No.” He’s too quick to answer and he knows it.

 

“Oh,” Kurt says, and it’s neither statement nor question. There’s no judgment in his tone, and Blaine feels his chest open up and breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Blaine ducks his chin and glances up at Kurt from under his eyelashes. “I…I don’t think I’d have a very good stage presence. I think I belong behind the curtain, you know?” He shrugs and tries to laugh half-heartedly, but Kurt doesn’t join him.

 

“I wouldn’t doubt myself so much if I were you,” Kurt says softly.

 

Blaine sighs deeply, opens his mouth to try and find some way to respond, but Kurt very carefully leans in and touches a feather light hand to his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, gently.

 

Blaine automatically begins to tense, but for once, just this once, instead of becoming defensive like he does every other time he has this conversation with someone, he just smiles shyly and offers a nod of thanks.

 

Kurt’s words feel like a balm soothing over a secret, invisible wound that Blaine didn’t even know that he had.

 

 _It’s okay._ He hears the words repeated in his head. He _feels_ them.    

 

“I…um…I should be getting back…” he says quietly.

 

Kurt’s beautiful face and cheery expression drop. Blaine quickly continues, “…But, um, maybe let me walk you back to your bother’s friend’s place?” Blaine asks kindly with just a touch of hesitation. “Um…there’s a great ice cream stand up here if you’d like a cone for dessert? I can make some recommendations,” he adds with a careful smile.

 

Blaine doesn’t know if he’s talking too much or maybe hasn’t said enough; he doesn’t know if he’s answered correctly or spoken out of turn. But with Kurt, he doesn’t feel as if he’s being judged or scrutinized or as if he has to justify every aspect of his life and the why and how of it. With Kurt he feels as if he can just be himself. He can be the quiet kid who likes to play music and write sad, or sometimes glad, words, and he doesn’t have to explain himself.

 

He doesn’t have to try or act. He can just _be_.

 

He waits for Kurt to say something; he tries to gauge his reaction. He tries to understand Kurt—and he tries to figure out exactly what’s going on between them.

 

And as Blaine’s mind is focused on his internal debate, almost forgetting to breathe, Kurt hops forward, loops an arm through one of Blaine’s, and smiles brightly at him.

 

“I’d love that. But I’m buying. My treat.”

 

“B-but I…I…”

 

“Maybe you could buy coffee one morning, when you’re free?” Kurt suggests, interrupting Blaine’s spluttering. “I have another nine or so days here. I’m going to need all the local hangout recommendations I can get from a loyal, trusty advisor.” He winks and Blaine blushes.

 

 _It’s okay,_ Blaine thinks again as they start walking in the direction of the ice cream stand, and Kurt launches into a conversation about when he took piano lessons, drawing Blaine into commenting as they walk.

 

_It’s actually, maybe, really okay._

 

*

****

They swap numbers at the door of Puck’s apartment building.

 

Kurt smiles brightly and waves before he pushes through the door, and Blaine blushes and hurries off down the street with his phone cradled carefully within his tight grasp, hoping he won’t have to wait too long to see Kurt again, or even just to talk to him. 

 

As it happens, he doesn’t have to wait too long at all because they meet up for coffee the next morning. Kurt had texted him asking if he was free because he was both brother-less and friend-less for the day. Fortunately, Blaine doesn’t have class until that afternoon.

 

The coffee shop that Blaine has taken them to is his favorite. It’s small and charming, and not far from Blaine’s campus. When they enter, Blaine is recognised by a guy with red hair and a lip ring; the barista greets him warmly and asks if he wants his usual drink.

 

“You’re a regular, then?” Kurt asks him, smiling as they take a seat at a small table tucked into an alcove at the back of the shop.

 

Blaine nods and grins bashfully. “I’m here whenever I’m not at home, school, or the restaurant. Let me order you something; I have an idea of what you might like. I’ll be right back,” he says and walks over to the counter, temporarily leaving Kurt, who stares after him happily.

 

When Blaine returns he has two giant, steaming mugs in his hands and a brown paper bag under one arm. “A non-fat mocha. I hope you like it,” Blaine says as he carefully passes one of the mugs to Kurt and takes a seat opposite him. “I think you might. I got these, too, in case you were hungry. These are definitely on my recommendation list.”

 

Kurt grins; his cheeks blush a little, and his eyes light up as if Blaine has just unveiled a secret. He takes a sip from the mug and closes his eyes, humming appreciatively as the drink warms his throat. When he opens his eyes again, Blaine is watching him with lips parted into a small smile. There’s a little bit of chocolate-sprinkled foam on Kurt’s upper lip, and Blaine has to snap his mouth shut when Kurt licks it off with a little chuckle.

 

Blaine hands Kurt a lemon and sugar muffin from the packet and grins when it’s accepted with a delighted smile and a cheeky wink. “A man after my own heart. You are definitely outdoing yourself with the recommendations,” Kurt says with a smile. “I can see why you spend your free time here. Though, between here and the restaurant, it’s a wonder you have a waistline as trim as you do.”

 

Blaine ducks his head and blushes furiously, looking down at the nibbled muffin in his hand. He clears his throat. “I…um…it’s quiet here. Everybody’s busy, and no one bothers you.” He shrugs his shoulders, hoping his answer is explanation enough. Kurt seems satisfied with his response and blows gently over the froth on the top of his coffee cup before taking another indulgent sip.

 

“You like being alone, huh?” Kurt asks quietly after some time. He had been looking around the shop, noticing unique pieces of paraphernalia pinned to the walls and placed in the corners and windowsills. They’re mostly related to music somehow, whether they’re guitar picks, concert ticket stubs, old framed vinyl records, or sepia-toned photographs of famous musicians throughout the years.

 

Blaine blinks at him in answer, and Kurt sputters around a mouthful of coffee goodness. “I mean…um, sorry, I didn’t mean it quite like that.” Kurt chuckles and tries to rephrase. “I mean, you enjoy your own company, the quietness and silence…unless, that is…it’s filled with music?”

 

Blaine feels his cheeks heat with color and he can’t help the small grin from breaking out on his lips. He nods. “You’re very perceptive.”

 

Kurt leans in closer to the table separating him and Blaine. “I am when it concerns someone I have interest in,” he says softly, and his eyes are very blue and almost luminescent under the shaded lamp lights.

 

Blaine can’t meet Kurt’s eyes; he just _can’t._ He picks absentmindedly at his muffin with his fingertips and doesn’t know where it comes from when he takes a short breath and mumbles barely audibly, “Y­–you’re interested in…in me?”

 

“Very much so,” Kurt whispers with zero hesitation, and his eyes are dancing as his sweet smile widens, threatening to meet the tips of his ears.

 

Blaine does manage to look up then, a quick upwards sweep of his long lashes with a few blinks. He sits there grinning and blushing while watching Kurt’s beautiful face even as Kurt watches _him,_ and Blaine can’t help but think how natural and normal this all seems.

 

Blaine has never felt more comfortable in anyone else’s company without the accompaniment or distraction of music than he does right now, with Kurt, a man he’s only known for a couple of days. A man he’s very attracted to. And for once it just feels _right._

 

They talk nonstop after that, sharing tentative glances and playful finger pokes when one of them makes a joke, until their coffee cups are cold and almost empty and their muffin wrappers are lying all crinkled on the table. Kurt shares with Blaine secrets from the stage and some anecdotes from his college days in New York. Blaine surprisingly but happily tells Kurt more about his classes and what kind of music he likes to write and perform.

 

With each word he says and each thought he shares with Kurt, Blaine feels as if a tiny weight is lifted from his shoulders. He doesn’t understand why it’s never been so easy to talk or even just _be_ with somebody before. Before Kurt.

 

When there’s finally a small pause in the conversation, Kurt straightens in his seat and says, “Are you working tonight, after class? I know Finn is working all day and night. Mercedes is busy, too. I need to think about what to do for dinner. Noah has offered to make me something, but I don’t know if I entirely trust his cooking skills.”

 

Blaine smiles and laughs a little. He thinks he knows what Kurt is hinting at, but he doesn’t want to assume or over-think. That’s always been a problem for Blaine; so he nods silently with a shy smile and hooded eyes.

 

Kurt’s answering smile lights up his entire face. He doesn’t need to say anything and neither does Blaine. They both know Kurt will be at the restaurant tonight, and Blaine will be waiting for him.   

 

After another half hour or so of friendly, insightful conversation and a complimentary refill from red-haired, lip-ring guy, Kurt notices Blaine check the time on his watch and asks if he needs to get going for class. Blaine regretfully nods and moves to stand from the booth, smiling a little as Kurt moves quickly to follow him.

 

Outside, the weather is bright and warm. Kurt looks flawless to Blaine in a light blue shirt and a pair of white skinny jeans. Kurt wraps a light, patterned scarf around his neck and puts on his sunglasses as he smiles up at the sun.

 

Blaine’s mouth drops open a little, just looking at Kurt.

 

“Um,” Kurt says, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he rocks playfully back on forth on the heels of his boots. “It’s not a bad thing, you know? What I said in there, about enjoying your own company. I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Not at all.” His face is serious but soft, sincere, and so _lovely_.

 

Blaine bites his lip into a smile. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” He nods and takes a breath before he bravely reaches out to squeeze Kurt’s arm reassuringly. “I…I’m this way.” He points down the street towards the campus. “So…you’ll be at Cooper’s tonight?”

 

Kurt nods a little too enthusiastically and smiles widely. “Save me a table.” And then, “In your section,” he adds with a wink and turns to walk the opposite way. “Thank you for coffee!” he calls over his shoulder.     

 

Blaine smiles back at him, waves and then crosses the street. And, as each footstep takes him closer to his class building and farther away from Kurt, he starts to feel something he’s never felt before.

 

Lonely. And suddenly Blaine knows he’s starting to enjoy his own company a little bit less than he did before he met Kurt.

 

*

 

The dinner shift at the restaurant is quiet, and thankfully so. There’s a group of regular girls in, and they keep Finn happily occupied, which suits Blaine quite nicely, as well.

 

He spends most of his shift hanging over the edge of the bar, polishing glasses as Kurt talks to him from the table Blaine had saved him, the one closest to the bar.

 

Kurt has barely said two words to Finn since arriving a couple of hours ago. Blaine wonders what Kurt has said to Finn about him, about _them_ —if he can even use the word _them_? He truly hopes that he can.

 

Thankfully Finn doesn’t seem to mind or be bothered at all. He gives them both a grin as he passes by every now and then, and that’s enough for Blaine to relax and enjoy Kurt’s company while he gets on with his duties.

 

“What’s your favorite food?” Kurt asks Blaine, a mouthful of pasta balanced on his fork ready to eat.

 

Blaine smiles as he hangs the last of the glasses upside down on the rack above the bar. “Um…”

 

“Don’t worry; Cooper isn’t here. Be honest,” Kurt teases and grins as he picks up his wine glass. He’s been here pretty much since Blaine started his shift earlier that evening and has been leisurely ordering side and starter dishes and drink refills. He’s on his second glass of a fine Chianti; his cheeks are a little flushed, and his eyes are a little shimmering and glazed. He’s smiling and laughing freely and just so _lovely,_ and Blaine feels flattered that Kurt’s this comfortable and happy around him.

 

Blaine grins and walks from behind the bar to stand at Kurt’s table. “Well, I do love the type of food that we serve here. As you know I have a strong preference for pepperoni pizza—” Kurt chuckles, and Blaine lights up from inside out at the sound. “I don’t think you can go wrong with a nice pasta dish, or maybe a steak?”

 

“Great. I agree.” Kurt smiles and balances the fork on the side of his dish while he uses a napkin to dab at his mouth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Because I was wondering if I could maybe break your string of recommendations and recommend somewhere myself?”

 

“Oh?” Blaine quirks an eyebrow; he doesn’t know where this newfound confidence has come from, but he wants to embrace it. “Hmm…Do you think you’re qualified? You’ve been here for what, four or five days? I don’t know if I can trust your expertise,” he teases.

 

Kurt’s eyes sparkle under the wineglass chandelier hanging above him. He licks his lips a little nervously. “I’ve had a recommendation myself that I would like to pass on to you. That is if I can steer you away from this place…and of course if you’re free one night? Maybe this weekend? If you’d like to?”

 

Blaine bites his lip and wills his cheeks to cool. He leans forward and rests his forearms on top of the empty chair opposite Kurt. He struggles to find the words to answer and hopes that the small but dopey smile on his face reads as _“Yes, I’m free. I’d love to!”_

He’s pretty sure Cooper will let him take him the whole weekend off should he ask. He suddenly hates the fact that the weekend is another two days away. Blaine can’t seem to manage more than a weak nod, but thankfully Kurt is able to read his expression. Kurt smiles brightly and practically bounces in his seat with excitement.

 

Blaine falls for Kurt even more in that moment.

 

*

 

The restaurant where Kurt asks to meet him Saturday night is a place Blaine’s heard of but has never been to. It’s a little upscale and a little livelier than what he’s used to, but Kurt’s right—it does have good recommendations, and he feels ready to try something different.

 

The restaurant’s décor consists of deep purple walls, dark hardwood floors with cherry wood tables, and chairs with plush velvet cushions. It’s small but classy, with a calm ambience and polite, well-dressed and efficient servers.

 

The ambiance practically screams _Kurt_ to Blaine and helps him feel comfortable, relaxing and enjoying himself.

 

They’re seated at a small rounded booth at the back of the restaurant, with just an older couple in a booth next to them and a party of four paying their bill and leaving the table on the other side.

 

Blaine slides into one side and waits for Kurt to take his seat on the opposite side of the table. To his surprise and sheer delight, however, Kurt slides right in beside him with a tentative smile on his face and a slight blush to his cheeks.

 

Kurt is confident and sure, but also humble and a little shy and modest. Blaine thinks those are the traits that he likes the most about Kurt; he is a little bit of what Blaine _is_ and also of what Blaine wants to _be._ He’s both. He’s _everything._

 

Their waiter introduces himself while lighting the small tea light candle placed in the center of their table; then he tells them the specials of the day, takes their drink order, and scurries off.

 

Blaine can’t help but let his eyes linger on Kurt a little longer than he probably should. He looks wonderful in this light, and the tiny flickering flame in front of them lights up his blue-green eyes perfectly. He’s wearing a simple but striking navy and violet, vine-patterned button-down shirt, a pair of skinny charcoal dress pants, and a pair of shoes that look quite expensive.

 

Blaine lets himself silently celebrate a little bit the fact that he’s wearing a plain navy dress shirt and dark skinny jeans with navy and grey boat shoes with purple laces. It’s as if they planned to match each other, like an elegantly dressed, gorgeous power couple.

 

Before Blaine can get too carried away with his thoughts, his attention is captured as Kurt smiles at him. “I’ve heard they make an amazing chicken and avocado flatbread appetizer here. We could share? Or…um…just you know, whatever you feel like…”

 

“I’d love that.” Blaine nods and smiles at the same time, quickly reassuring Kurt.

 

Their waiter, an elderly bald man with wrinkled but kind eyes, brings the bottle of Pinot Noir they ordered to share and, after pouring equal amounts into both of their glasses, he places the bottle down and leaves them alone to peruse the menu.

 

Blaine thought about just ordering a glass of water or a soda. He’s always been _that_ guy. Although he hardly ever goes anywhere with anyone to be _that_ guy, when given the opportunity, he’d rather be the one sitting in the corner of a crowded room with a soda in his hand rather than the person in the middle of all the ruckus, knocking back shots.

 

But right now, sitting in a fine restaurant with a flawless-looking Kurt by his side, Blaine doesn’t want to be _that guy_ anymore. He wants to be the type of guy that Kurt would be proud to be with. He wants to be _somebody_ for Kurt. So what if his cheeks grow a little flushed and he feels a little tipsy? He wants Kurt to see all of him, to _know_ all of him.

 

And when Kurt had looked through his eyelashes at him from over the top of the wine list, asking Blaine’s opinion on the choice of wine, Blaine was only too happy to comply. And he was happier still when Kurt asked if he wanted to share with him.

 

Blaine would happily share _anything_ with Kurt. Always.

 

The flatbread that Kurt recommended is delicious, seasoned with herbs and spices that leave a pleasant kick on Blaine’s tongue. There’s also a pleasant kick in Blaine’s chest when, as he reaches to tear off a piece of bread, his fingers brush Kurt’s as he reaches at the same time.

 

For their entrees, they each order a petite filet mignon with potatoes Dauphinoise and seasoned vegetables. Kurt has the blue cheese sauce, and Blaine the creamy peppercorn.  He happily offers a taste of his to Kurt, who smiles with twinkling eyes as he closes his lips around the tasty morsel.

 

As the meal continues, the wine warms Blaine’s throat and spreads through his chest. It makes him feel heated and flushed, but in a wonderfully odd way. He feels relaxed, though not so much that he’s slurring his words or feeling sleepy.

 

His hands are no longer shaking as they were earlier, when he was waiting for Kurt outside of the restaurant, and he’s feeling a happy kind of buzz thrumming through him. He feels kind of _brave_. 

 

The food is as delicious as Kurt had promised, and the atmosphere around them swells with a quiet kind of joy. The whole evening is wonderfully _comfortable,_ and that’s a word that Blaine has never used before. Not under these circumstances.

 

When their waiter appears at their table to clear away their dishes and cutlery, Kurt is just finishing off a very animated story about the first stage musical he saw as a child. He’s all smiles and wild hand gestures, and Blaine almost feels his face aching a little from grinning and laughing so much. Blaine’s heart thumps with each peal of laughter that ripples through him and as he tries to catch his breath; he’s laughing that hard.

 

When they are offered a desert menu, Blaine’s heart sinks a little in his chest when Kurt quickly waves it away, but then Kurt gives Blaine a wink and says to their waiter, “We’ll have the tiramisu please. To share. Oh, and two espressos. Thank you.”

 

Kurt’s grin is simply illuminating, and Blaine is left a little speechless.

 

Blaine wants this; he wants Kurt making decisions and offering suggestions and choices. For _them…_ as a _couple._ Truthfully he’s a little astounded that Kurt remembers these little details from their casual conversations; he only mentioned his passion for good tiramisu while he was offering Kurt dessert at Cooper’s. And who would pass up a good espresso, even if he usually is a medium drip kind of guy. But he loves the option to share and to order more, and then linger after a meal because…why the hell not? He has someone to do _this_ with—someone who is becoming more and more special to him.

 

And…he wants it forever.

 

*

 

Cooper and Blaine’s apartment is about a ten-minute walk from Puck’s, where Kurt and Finn are staying, which is very handy. And both apartments are in the same direction from the restaurant, which is only another ten-minute walk away, which is handier still.

 

Kurt had not taken no for an answer when the check had arrived; he had swiped it off of the table with his bank card ready in hand. ( _“I asked. I pay”_ ), and Blaine was too dumbfounded and maybe a little too fuzzy-headed to try and argue.

 

Once outside on the sidewalk, with the late night’s breeze ruffling their hair lightly, Blaine takes out his phone to call a cab, or maybe even just to have something to hold and distract his fingers. His cheeks are flushed, and so are Kurt’s. His belly is filled with good food, and his head feels light and wonderful, the wine making him feel almost kind of invincible, as if he could do anything.

 

He could just reach out now; he could take Kurt’s hand in his own and pull him forward. _Closer._ He thinks that he might—

 

Kurt, unexpectedly reaches out first and touches his fingers to Blaine’s wrist, tapping the hand that’s holding his phone. “We could walk? If you wanted to? I mean it’s nice out…”

 

“Yes. Please, let’s.” Blaine breathes, eyes widening, feet already itching to move, to step up and walk next to Kurt.

 

They walk through lamp-lit streets, lined with rose beds and neatly trimmed bushes. It’s only a little after 10:30, but the sky is already like a summer blanket of dark blues and purples. A busker is playing nearby, and Blaine finds himself nodding his head a little to the beat as he walks. To his delight, Kurt does the same.

 

Blaine feels light and carefree—and something that feels very close to a type of contentment he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

 

Another thing he has decided that he likes about Kurt is that Kurt likes to talk. He never runs out of things to say, easily keeping the conversation going. It’s never awkward and, even if there is a silence spreading between them, it’s always a comfortable one. Kurt will happily chat whenever Blaine needs a moment to gather his thoughts or just a breather to smile and watch and take it all in.

 

Blaine feels as if Kurt is all of the things that he himself is not—and more. Kurt would be Blaine’s perfect pick from a menu, he’s decided. He’s not too much, and yet Blaine’s not sure he could ever have enough of him. He’s layered with all kinds of wonderful. He’s perfect.

 

Blaine decides that he wants to walk Kurt home first; after all, he’s lived here for some time now, and Kurt is a tourist—

 

The thought floods Blaine with cold from inside out—like a fire being put out. Kurt is a _tourist_ ; he won’t be here much longer. Yes, he lives in New York, and yes, Blaine hopes to move there soon, and they could hang out or whatever whenever possible.

 

But it wouldn’t be the same. They’ve gotten so close these past few days. Blaine has grown so fond of Kurt, and so fond of the feelings attached to Kurt and to what he represents to Blaine.

 

Something needs to be established. And Blaine thinks that it should be tonight, after sharing such a wonderful evening of food and drink—wonderful conversation and…even mutual flirting. And he needs to make his decision—and take action—sooner rather than later. He feels as if he’s known Kurt forever, and he doesn’t want to chance losing that feeling.

 

Kurt says he recognises the block they’re approaching and starts to move to cross the street. Before he has time to think too much about what he’s doing, Blaine puts out his hand, and this time, instead of just brushing fingers, he takes Kurt’s hand fully in his and says with a broad smile, “Come on, I know a short cut.”

 

And Kurt happily and a little breathlessly goes with him.

 

They take a shortcut through a small park, which is lit up with twinkling lanterns strung from lampposts and trees. There are dog-walkers and late night joggers, and Blaine feels strangely a little giddy with it all. It all feels so oddly romantic; almost like a movie.

 

Hand in hand, they stroll closer and closer to Puck’s place, and Blaine can only hope that both Kurt’s brother and his friend are out or have decided to call it an early night. He wants Kurt all to himself on that doorstep—without any peeping toms or catcalls.

 

Kurt’s hand feels warm and soft in his, and suddenly Blaine aches to know what Kurt’s breath would be like against his skin…or how his lips would feel as they meet his. Blaine has never wondered such a thing about another person before. 

 

“This is me,” Kurt says as they approach Puck’s building. They get to the front stoop, and Blaine nods up to the place; he knows; he remembers. He wishes they had another five miles to walk together, hand in hand. He wishes he hadn’t taken the quicker route, but without it he may not have had the opportunity to take Kurt’s hand.

 

He wishes they had all night…or even…the rest of their lives.

 

Kurt smiles at Blaine as the quiet between them grows more prominent, but not unwanted. Nothing they have shared between them has ever been unwanted. He swings their hands together between them, and Blaine grins up at him bashfully.

 

“Thank you for dinner, Kurt. It was lovely.” Blaine ducks his chin and briefly closes his eyes. He has no idea how those eyelashes affect Kurt; he’s not trying to be cute or flirty. This is just him. “Would…won’t you let me pay?” he asks, his bottom lip tugged between his front teeth.

 

“Next time,” Kurt whispers, eyes shining. He tugs at their joined hands, and Blaine stumbles forward just a little, another step closer to Kurt so that the tips of their shoes are brushing.

 

The one, tiny segment of Blaine’s brain that is still a little focused and working manages to flash through the past few days they have spent together, conjuring up images and memories of coffee and pizza and the rendezvous at the restaurant.

 

 _What’s next?_ Blaine thinks, his brow furrowed, and only when Kurt smiles brightly and broadly does Blaine realize that he’s spoken aloud.

 

“Everything,” Kurt breathes, his head tilting forward, eyes and smile dazzling under the porch light. “Hopefully, everything is next for us, Blaine.”

 

And then, finally, Kurt closes the space between them and presses their mouths together.

 

Their first kiss is short and sweet, but it’s perfect. It’s everything. It takes Blaine’s breath away, literally, and Kurt chases the little gasp with more kisses.

 

Kurt presses in deeper, parts his lips just a little and invites Blaine in. More and _more._ And Blaine does more than react, more than respond; he _pursues_ those lips _._ After a few tender brushes and teasing strokes, they part with a mutual moan of both satisfaction and disappointment for being separated.

 

Kurt leaves Blaine with a kiss on his cheek, his nose, and one more on his lips before heading though the door, hips sashaying with pleasant teasing. 

 

And for the second time that evening, Blaine is rendered speechless.         

 

And hopelessly, irrevocably, maybe _…undoubtedly_ …more than a little bit in love.

 

*

 

The next morning, Blaine has showered and poured himself a cup of coffee and has just sat down with his guitar when his phone beeps with an incoming message. His head is instantly filled with thoughts and images of Kurt as he reaches for his phone.

 

His fingers are itching to pluck at the strings of his guitar in time to the melody his heart is singing…for Kurt.

**Puck and Finn have gone out for the day…come over? Please? K x**

Within moments Blaine’s guitar is left lying on his bed, and his coffee is left to turn cold. It’s the quickest and easiest decision Blaine has ever made. It’s something different. It’s new; it’s a first.

 

And Blaine thrives on it.

*****

Blaine has not met Puck, or Noah, as Kurt calls him. He only knows of him, has seen a photo of him on Finn’s cell phone of the two of them, dressed in red graduation gowns and caps, comically playing air guitars.

 

However, whoever the guy is, his couch is _very_ comfortable. Blaine isn’t sure if it’s the springs of the couch cushions that are making his back bend deliciously like a cat’s, or whether it’s because Kurt is stretched out on top of him, with his fingers curled through Blaine’s hair and their lips glued together.

 

Blaine hadn’t had breakfast that morning before he’d left, and they have both skipped lunch in favor of doing _this._ But neither of them seems to care; _this_ is much more satisfying and delicious.

 

Their crotches are mostly kept apart during their heated make-out session, with hands searching and legs tangled. Soon, though, as Blaine’s hands squeeze around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt provides a rather inviting downward thrust, Blaine can’t help but raise his hips and meet Kurt time after time, thrust for thrust, with a constant stream of kiss for kiss.

 

It’s heated and heady, a little dirty and just… _wow._ Blaine has never experienced this feeling before nor the power or neediness that comes with it. He never wants it to stop.

 

He never wants _Kurt_ to stop.     

 

“Where’ve you’ve been, huh?” Kurt asks Blaine as they eventually part for air. Kurt leans back and up on one elbow, with his back pressed to the back of the couch and his legs entwined with Blaine’s. They’re both wearing jeans, and the thick denim provides a delicious friction, as well as an unwanted but necessary barrier. 

 

There’s a husky tone to Kurt’s voice and a dreamy look in his eyes. He rests a hand on Blaine’s chest, just over his rapidly beating heart. “Where have you been hiding yourself, away from me, all this time?”

 

Blaine can’t do anything but blush furiously and grin. He’s never felt wanted before. Not like this.

 

He’s never felt _found_ before he was ever lost or missed.

 

Blaine is speechless; he’s not sure how to answer. But thankfully Kurt knows; he just _knows_ and, with a small grin, he lowers his head, and his mouth finds Blaine’s once again.

 

“I know,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s lips. “I understand. You were never hiding, but I found you still.” He smiles into the next kiss when Blaine’s breath catches.

 

A short while later, Finn and Puck come home earlier than expected (they really should have known that this would happen) to find Kurt and Blaine in that exact same position on the couch, with laughter and whispered words shared between tender kisses.

 

Finn ‘awws’ and grins but still has to turn around and cover his eyes, but Puck is perfectly happy to continue watching the show with whoops and hollers.

 

“You’re buying me a new couch though, right?” he says, smiling widely. The tone of his voice and the look on his face tell Kurt and Blaine that he couldn’t really care less about his couch.

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with Finn and Puck, watching TV, playing games, and ordering takeout. At first, Blaine thinks Puck looks like he could snap Blaine in half with his dark menacing eyes and the Mohawk on top of his head, but when he sits next to Blaine on the couch, presses a beer can into his hand, and gives a very heartfelt speech about his happiness for Kurt finding a nice guy, Blaine’s heart swells with surprise and delight.

 

A little later, when Puck and Finn are sitting on the floor battling against each other at some violent video game, Kurt curls his legs up on the couch and rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder as he comments on their fighting tactics.

 

Blaine, without even thinking about it, lifts his arm and curls it around Kurt’s shoulder, pulling him in to his body.

 

And he can honestly say that for the first time in pretty much forever, with these people whom he met only days before, he feels something close to normal and right.

 

Something close to home.   

 

*

 

The next evening they’re at Blaine’s place. Cooper is at the restaurant until closing, and Blaine has managed to wrangle out of his shift. Cooper knows that Blaine is at home tonight with company, and he doesn’t have to think too much to figure out who it is—especially since he has also been given explicit instructions to not come home before ten-thirty, at the earliest.

 

And if Cooper knows what’s good for him, he’ll listen.

 

Blaine gives Kurt a short tour of the home he shares with his brother, ending the tour with his own personal space, his bedroom.

 

It’s reasonably sized for a two-bedroom LA apartment. Cooper has the larger master bedroom with the en suite, but Blaine’s room is right next to the main bathroom; so he doesn’t mind. (Besides, it _is_ Cooper’s apartment, after all.) Blaine painted the walls a calming olive green when he first moved in and has accessorized with dark wood furnishings and simple but eye catching décor. He always keeps it neat and reasonably tidy, with his guitar propped up on its stand beside his desk, where his laptop is folded shut and surrounded by sheets and sheets of music notation. There’s a small sage green loveseat in the corner of the room, angled towards a TV that is barely ever used, but in this moment Blaine is thankful that it’s there.

 

“It’s cosier in here,” Blaine says hesitantly, stepping aside as Kurt walks into the room and looks around. Blaine shrugs and blushes a little when Kurt upturns a suggestive eyebrow at him. “Warmer. Quieter,” he adds, and wills himself to be quiet.

 

Kurt just grins playfully, gives Blaine a quick peck on the cheek, then heads towards Blaine’s bookcase where he keeps his DVD’s. “Let’s see if we can agree on something here, shall we?” Kurt teases, winking at Blaine over his shoulder as he trails a finger over the line of DVD cases.

 

Blaine lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

There is a boy—a man—in his bedroom. A very hot, lovely, and sweet man, and Blaine is actually _not_ freaking out. His palms are not sweating; his hands are not shaking. He’s ok.

 

He’s actually, really, fucking wonderfully _ok._

They settle on _Moulin Rouge_ and as the opening credits are rolling, and Kurt is situated comfortably in one corner of the love seat, Blaine brings in some cheese and fruit from the kitchen and a bottle of chilled Chardonnay and two glasses propped under an elbow.

 

“I mean…only if you want some,” Blaine says as he settles the bottle and glasses down on a little table in front of the couch. “You could have water or soda or something else if you wanted—”

 

Kurt chuckles and pulls Blaine down onto the couch beside him. “I’d love to share a glass with you,” Kurt says smiling, and smacks a kiss to Blaine’s cheek and then to his parted lips.

 

And there it is again. That _feeling_. That feeling of wholehearted comfort and contentedness that surrounds Blaine while warming him up from inside out.

 

The duration of the movie is filled with companionable silence with occasional comments about the music and the story…as well as the occasional wet smack of lips when one or the other just can’t stop himself from indulging in a quick kiss.

 

By the end of the movie, Kurt is topping up their glasses with what’s left in the bottle while Blaine removes the mostly empty plates to the kitchen.

 

When he returns, the TV has been shut off, and Kurt is sitting up straighter on the couch. Blaine’s guitar is sitting on the floor beside him, propped up against Kurt’s knee. He has one hand carefully curled around the wooden neck of the guitar as if it’s precious.

 

“I was…uh…” Kurt’s voice is soft and gentle and so quiet. His eyes are a pale, sparkling blue as he looks up at Blaine in the doorway. “I was hoping that you would maybe…um…” His eyes flicker down to the guitar and back up again towards Blaine. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; he’s made it perfectly clear to Blaine what he’s trying to say. He’s not asking, he’s not demanding. He’s just hoping, _wanting._

 

Blaine heart starts to beat on double time. No, it _pounds._ It thumps and thuds almost a little painfully, and Blaine sways lightly on his feet. He has really never played for anyone—especially not in such an intimate setting—and definitely not for someone who has become so special to him.

 

He had never thought that anyone had particularly _cared_ about listening to Blaine and…his music…his words. His _soul._

Blaine had always thought that he would spend the years making his music, scribbling out words and notes in the lonely silence of his bedroom, and when they were ready and perfect, he would attempt to sell them. Give them to someone else to use. But he never imagined using them himself with his own hands and his own voice. His own _heart._ He had never believed that anyone would want that from him.

 

But now there’s Kurt. And Kurt _does_ want that from him.

 

“I…um…” Blaine’s voice is a little scratchy. He rubs a hand up the nape of his neck and through his curls, then back down again over his face. Like he’s trying to will himself to wake up, to react and respond. To say something, _do_ something. For Kurt.

 

“It’s ok,” Kurt says quickly, his voice small and kind as if he’s calming a small child. “You don’t have to. I understand. I’m sorry—”

 

Blaine reaches and places one hand on Kurt’s shoulder while the other hand reaches for his guitar. “No…” he begins a little hesitantly. “No, it’s ok. I…um…I will…I want to…for you.” And then, more surely, “I do.” Kurt’s face softens, a small smile shadowing his lips. “It’s just that I…I haven’t played for anyone in such a long time. I can’t even remember—”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt says softly, his eyes smiling. He curls a palm around Blaine’s cheek tenderly. “You do whatever you want. Whatever feels comfortable and natural to you. I don’t mind. I’d just like to hear the wonderful music that I _know_ you’re capable of playing. Even if it’s just a few bars; you don’t even have to sing. But at least then I’ll have physical evidence of your talent.” He winks, and Blaine pushes his face further into the warm caress of Kurt’s palm.

 

What did he ever do to deserve the wonder that is Kurt?

 

Blaine gingerly takes a seat beside Kurt and takes the guitar from him. Kurt leans back against the armrest and tries to make himself as still and inconspicuous as possible, as if Blaine’s a skittish animal that he’s trying not to spook.

 

Blaine flexes his wrists a couple times, stretches his fingers, and plays a few absent chords as he tunes the guitar and adjusts some strings. It’s all unnecessary; if Blaine were alone, he could pick up that guitar and play a whole piece, with no hesitation or warming up needed.

 

But this is for Kurt; he is going to play for _Kurt_ , and Blaine wants it to be special—as special as Kurt has become to Blaine.

 

Kurt doesn’t, hasn’t _ever_ judged Blaine or made him feel silly, or odd or inferior. He’s never given him a strange look, or adjusted the tone of his voice to one of condescension. Although they’ve known each other just a short time, there’s never been an interaction between the pair that hasn’t been anything other than warm and friendly and accepting.

 

It hasn’t been anything less than comfortable. It’s as if Kurt was made especially for Blaine. He was brought here, for Blaine.

 

And that makes him even more special.

 

Still not quite confident enough to play his own original composition, Blaine decides to start with a cover of a song, but one that he has interpreted in his own way. The first few notes he plays are lacking in confidence; they’re a little rigid and tentative, but Kurt smiles brightly, nonetheless. He knows that Blaine can and will do better, that he’ll get there.

 

As Blaine continues and gets past the first opening bars, continuing with music only, no words, Kurt recognizes the tune. The original is not typically meant for guitar; the original is livelier and has more of a beat and an obvious bass. But Blaine’s interpretation is soft and lilting and just _lovely._ Kurt loves what Blaine is doing with his version, the way he’s rearranging it and twisting it, strumming the chords from his very heart and soul.

 

Kurt watches Blaine’s hands and fingers moving against each and every string as if each note is precious to him. He knows Blaine’s music is precious to him, but…

 

Halfway through the song, Kurt’s eyes drift up to Blaine’s face, and his breath hitches in his throat. Blaine’s eyes are closed; his long, dark lashes are fanned against the apple of his cheeks. His bottom lip is held lightly between his teeth, and his head is swaying so lightly and slowly from side to side.

 

He’s not just playing the music. He’s _feeling_ it.

 

Kurt recognizes when Blaine is coming to the end of the piece; his hands are slowing, his touches are softer, the notes quieter. He readies himself for Blaine to finish, for Blaine to open his eyes, and no doubt try and avoid eye contact with Kurt.

 

Kurt is waiting for Blaine to put down his guitar so he can launch himself into Blaine’s arms. He wants to kiss Blaine senseless until he’s smiling and panting and wanting more. He wants to thank Blaine for what he has just shared with him.

 

What Kurt is not ready for, is Blaine opening his mouth and quietly, so, _so_ softly beginning to sing the last few lyrics of the song as it fades into silence.

 

_“My heart stops when you look at me._

_Just one touch; now baby, I believe. This is real;_

_so take a chance, and don't ever look back._

_Don’t ever look back.”_

Kurt’s heart seems to stop just as the lyrics said. That voice. His _gorgeous_ , melodic voice, which began as barely a rumble in his chest but rose up so wonderfully, has Kurt’s barely beating heart stuck in his throat.

 

Blaine wasn’t just singing lyrics. They’re words, they’re truth and honesty, loyalty and worship, all rolled into one; and they mean something, deeply.

 

They are an _admission._ A confession. A declaration. Not just to Kurt, but to himself. A promise.

 

Blaine puts down his guitar with slightly shaking his hands, angling it so that it’s resting against the couch and not likely to fall. He has never felt so split open in such a wonderful way as he does right now. He feels more alive than he ever has before.

 

Suddenly he has an urge, a tugging, nudging feeling that he has never felt before. The feeling, the _urgency_ to perform. To continue, to _impress_. To lose himself in his music and his heart. In the hope of Kurt finding him there.

 

 _Always finding him_.  

 

As he turns back slowly to face Kurt, he breathes out a small steady breath and tries to muster up some form of a smile. Kurt is staring at him, with his face so open and full of awe. It’s the most beautiful sight Blaine thinks he’s ever seen.

 

Before either of them can say anything, Blaine’s face is captured in Kurt’s warm, strong hands, and he’s being pulled close against Kurt’s chest as they sink down together into the sofa cushions.

 

Kurt’s short, sweet, frantic kisses leave Blaine a little breathless and light-headed. There are no words between them, only the sounds of hot breath panting, the wet suction of lips sliding together and parting for more.  

 

But Blaine thinks, he _hopes_ he knows what this is.

 

This is an answer. _A confirmation_.

 

The kisses deepen, strengthening and speaking volumes in the small space of Blaine’s bedroom. Blaine thrills in the feel of it, and without realizing it, he thrusts down against Kurt’s smooth, lean body over and over. He imagines pulling Kurt up and walking them over to the bed, arms still tangled, lips still joined.

 

He could do this all day, he could day this with Kurt day after day and—

 

“Four days…” Blaine suddenly rasps against Kurt’s lips, a little breathlessly as he slides his tongue out and away from Kurt’s mouth. His eyes snap wide open, and he stares down at Kurt with eyes full of pain as reality reasserts itself. “We only have four days.”

 

Kurt’s eyes slowly open as recognition and realization settle within him. He opens his mouth to say something, lets a rush of breath out, and then closes his mouth again.

 

Blaine is right; they have only four days left together here.

 

A rising panic starts to bubble up inside of Blaine; his eyes flicker all around Kurt’s face, his hands holding Kurt’s face as if he must keep him there as carefully and gently and for as long as he can.

 

Kurt sees the panic surface in Blaine’s eyes and in the set of his jaw. He notices the denial and frustration start to creep its way into Blaine’s lovely face and, before Blaine can try to get up or say or do something to build his walls again, Kurt tightens his arms around Blaine’s waist and back.

 

He clutches Blaine to him, so tightly and tenderly, and when Blaine seems calmer, and Kurt is sure he has his attention, he smiles up at him—a wide growing smile, full of reassurance and confidence.

 

“Yes. We have four days left together…here… _in LA_ ,” Kurt agrees. Blaine blinks and swallows. “But, Blaine, we have _everyday_ once we’re in New York together. And it won’t be long until that happens. I’m sure of it.”

 

And there it is.    

 

Its funny, Blaine thinks, how quickly life can change so quickly—how all it takes is one moment, one realization, one heartbeat—and your life, your _world_ has changed.

 

And because he met Kurt, has known Kurt, his life most definitely has been changed for good.

 

 

** Epilogue **

****

“Are you ready?”

 

It’s a loaded question, really.

 

Has he ever been ready before now? Probably not.

 

Is he ready now? Maybe…maybe not.

 

But is he happy now? Happier than he’s ever been before? Does he feel content—as if he fits in his own skin ~~?~~

 

That’s the dynamite question. And the answer is yes.

 

Blaine settles his hands around the neck of his guitar, fidgets with the tuning keys and plucks the strings a couple times. He breathes in and out steadily, shifting a little as he leans on the little office desk behind the kitchen.

 

“Blaine, dude. You good?” Cooper’s voice comes again, and it’s only then that Blaine finally looks up and makes his eyes focus on his brother, who is standing in the doorway of the restaurant office.

 

There’s a delicious array of aromas wafting in from the kitchen and Blaine breathes them in, along with the memories they carry with them.

 

He breathes it all in, every second of this moment.

 

There’s a familiar sound of glasses clinking and the distant twang of cutlery clanging together. It feels good to be back, not only in LA but at _Cooper Ti Ama_. And he laughs a bit to know he’s back—and doesn’t have to pick up any shifts.

 

It’s been almost seven months since his last visit. It’s been way too long since he’s seen his brother, but Blaine can’t exactly control his hectic schedule, nor does he blame it or complain about it. There is a vast difference between Los Angeles and New York, where Blaine has been living and working for the past year, and even though it’s been so long, he feels as if he’s still coming to terms with all the differences.

 

The weather is milder in LA, most of the time, but he’s enjoyed the changing seasons in New York. The difference in speed—both mental and physical—of the two places is a head turner. New York is, of course, the city that never sleeps; it just doesn’t switch off. There is always something to be doing or somewhere to go.

 

Blaine used to think that the few buskers and street performers that hang around the UCLA campus and the café-lined streets were a lot. He didn’t know he could be so wrong.

 

LA was as big as his world got. He couldn’t imagine anything else better. Until he let himself, that is. Until he opened up his mind, let himself dream, and then dared to step inside of that dream—and start to pull it from the corners into his new reality.

 

So much of it started with Cooper and his restaurant, and Blaine will never forget that. But Blaine would say it also started with the help of a beautiful stranger.

 

And Blaine could _never_ forget him.

 

All in all, as surprising as it still sounds to him when he says the words aloud, Blaine _loves_ being in New York, his new _home._ It took him a while to get used to it, but he got there in the end. He always does.

 

Blaine loves his quaint, little apartment. He’s proud of the way he has styled it to suit him, furnishing and decorating it with from his first real _New York_ pay checks. He’s proud that it is _his._

What’s better is that it’s only a few blocks from a popular off-Broadway hotspot. The neighborhood is lined with bars and cafés, wedged in between little, quirky theatres. It’s at one of these that Blaine landed his first fulltime _NYC_ job, one that seems tailored to his talents and his needs, as a piano player for the backing band and as a member of the small team of creative assistants.

 

It was a somewhat tough start when Blaine graduated from UCLA and decided to leave his brother and the comfort of the restaurant. When he first arrived, all Blaine had to his name was his guitar, the luggage at his feet, and the apartment that Cooper had placed the down payment for. (“ _If I can’t convince you to stay; at least let me make sure you have somewhere to live._ ”)

 

It was so unlike Blaine, to move so far out of his comfort zone into the unknown, and even what some might call hazardous territory. His heart pounded with every step he took closer to his dream and away from his familiar past.

 

But he wouldn’t look back. He couldn’t. Because no matter how much Blaine was doing for himself, how scared or brave he was feeling, he wasn’t, _isn’t_ alone. This knowledge helped carry him through.

 

Blaine contacted every music performance-related company available in the theatre district, almost in the entire city. He joined groups and signed up for blogs and events. He made himself known. He made himself a _someone—someone he believed in_.

 

And every step of the way, right there beside him, he had Kurt. His hand-holder, his muse, his uplifting, unwavering support. His exceptional, wonderful boyfriend.

 

Kurt’s apartment is only a stone’s throw from Blaine’s, which they agree is pretty awesome and handy. They split their time equally between each other’s homes when they’re not working or out exploring and socializing.

 

Blaine was very quickly accepted into Kurt’s small circle of friends, whom he had met through work, school, and through a variety of other circumstances. 

He has found his own friends, too—his own group of people that he can talk to and relate to, hang out with, and be himself with. And that’s something Blaine never thought would happen; he hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed this part of life. How can you miss something you never had?

 

His neighbor down the hall, the very friendly and loveable Kameel, who had decided to give up her ten-year career as an accountant and go back to school to study speech and language therapy, has become a close ally. It doesn’t hurt that her husband makes the best homemade pizzas, either.

 

Mick, who owns a music shop with a busking stage and a coffee area that Blaine has made his regular _‘go to_ ’ place, is swiftly becoming one of Blaine’s biggest fans and fondest friends. They hang out and jam together, and when Blaine brought Kurt to meet him for the first time, Mick had asked if he could perform at their wedding—whenever or wherever it may occur.

 

Blaine had blushed profusely from his collarbone up to his ears while Kurt just laughed freely, waved Mick off with a friendly gesture, and squeezed Blaine’s hand reassuringly.

 

Blaine still loves how much Kurt gets him. Like really _gets_ him. Knows him inexplicably inside out. He is his voice when Blaine sometimes can’t find his own. He’s Blaine’s feet whenever he finds it hard to carry himself forward to another day. He is Blaine’s heart. His _whole_ heart.

 

Blaine gives himself a mental shake as his brother’s query and joking bring his thoughts back to the present. He slowly stands and, with a quiet smile, nods at Cooper. Then, holding his trusty guitar close to his body, he moves through the door leading to the main restaurant.

 

There is not one empty chair or table in sight as Blaine rounds a corner and catches the eyes of some of the diners. The restaurant is how he remembered it, how he left it. With it’s lovely, low mood lighting and wonderfully familiar features. The wine glass chandeliers hang royally, and the only thing Blaine notices that is different is there is no music playing—no soft jazz or old time croon tunes filling the room from the speakers on the walls.

 

Beside the big bay window there is a stretch of empty floor space, a stool, and a small side table with a glass of water on it.

 

Blaine takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. With apparent confidence, he closes the distance between himself and the stool and sits down, making himself comfortable and shifting the guitar in his lap to an easy resting position.

 

Cooper follows him with a mic stand. He sets it up in front of Blaine, adjusts the height, and gives the metal head a couple of taps with his finger.

 

“One, two. One, two. Hello? Hi, hello. Can you hear me?” Some of the diners glance up at him and chuckle fondly as Blaine drops his head to his hands and, despite himself, laughs into them.

 

“Hey, everybody,” Cooper continues, standing straight and giving everybody his famous dazzling grin. “Welcome to all of you to _Cooper Ti Ama_. Thank you for being here tonight; whether you’re an old or new customer, you’re a friend of ours. So thank you, again. Tonight we have some special entertainment for you. For those of you who might not know, this is my little brother, Blaine. If you haven’t heard of him yet, you’re about to, because this kid’s gonna make it _big_ in New York. I’m telling you. Watch this space.”

 

Blaine’s confidence slips a little as he blushes and gives a little half-hearted wave; he can barely look at anything but his shoes right now.

 

“Blaine used to work here, and he was a very good server. But he’s an even better singer, songwriter, and musician. So here he is, his first time singing for a live audience in LA, exclusively for you, my soon-to-be-famous brother, Blaine Anderson.”  

 

The room fills with a warm round of applause and, with a last affirmative squeeze to Blaine’s shoulders, Cooper moves toward the bar, where Natalia is smiling broadly with a hand over her heart.

 

Blaine catches a glimpse of Mario and Bruno, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, their chefs’ hats slanted on their heads, reassuring smiles on their faces, and with thumbs up in the air.

 

Finn is at a nearby table with Puck, both shovelling food into their faces, but nodding encouragingly at him nonetheless.

 

Blaine looks down to collect his thoughts, blinking at the microphone. He blinks and breathes steadily, and after a few beats of silence save for the sound of glasses clinking and knives and forks scraping against china, he looks up.

 

The first pair of eyes that his gaze meets is the _only_ pair of eyes that really matter to him. His heart almost stops, but not because he’s nervous or unprepared. It feels quite the opposite, actually.

 

Orbs of sparkling glasz, awash with unshed tears, bore into him.

 

Kurt, _his_ Kurt, is seated at the table closest to the bar. His body is angled toward Blaine; everything about him is fixed upon Blaine, like a magnet. He’s smiling so widely that his eyes crinkle at the corners.

 

Kurt’s gorgeous, toothy grin and smiling eyes suddenly give Blaine’s the push he needs to open his mouth, take a breath, smile and—

 

“Um,hi.” The diners quietly pay attention, and Blaine feels his shoulders relax. “I want to thank my brother for having me here tonight; I probably wouldn’t be where I am today without him. And thank you for letting me sing for you while you dine. I’m going to start with a song I wrote about life’s journey and the options you have and the roads you choose to take. It’s about how everything is available to you, only if _you_ choose it. It’s about love, and how love can manifest and present itself in so many different ways. And it’s how you find that love, one that’s just for you.”

 

There’s a rather pregnant pause and, as Blaine allows himself to look over the expanse of the restaurant, everyone’s attention is fully upon him.

 

“I think this song is rather fitting to where I am in my life right now. I would like to dedicate this performance to my wonderful boyfriend, Kurt, and I hope that over the years to come I will be able to dedicate many more of my songs to him. This song is called ‘Love is on the Menu.’”

 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> I’d just like to say a huge thank you to my amazing beta, AncientGleek; although she knows that I can’t say thank you enough to her. 
> 
> And also a big thanks to my assigned artist Klaineitupanotch, for all of her wonderful work. 
> 
> And to you guys for reading and for being a constant stream of support and encouragement, thank you.


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